


Purple Heart

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gen, Humor, Military, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad is injured, but only just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Twotiming, who wrote this fic http://twotiming.livejournal.com/8872.html. It led to a fun conversation about ASkars' height and what the implications could be for his characters. This fic is the result. All in good fun. No beta. All errors my own.

"Medic! Medic!" Ray stood outside of low-roofed building, gesturing wildly. "Doc, over here. Colbert's wounded."

How the fuck? Nate wondered, heading off at a jog in the same direction as Doc. Major hostilities were at an end. They were going home in just a couple of days. What the fuck?

Brad's voice carried for all the approaching Marines to hear, "I do not need a fucking Medic, Ray."

Nate could see Brad sitting on the ground cradling his head in his hands. None of them were wearing armor or Kevlar anymore and obviously that policy needed to be re-thought. Still, Nate couldn't think of how Brad had been injured; they'd heard no weapons, mortar or arti fire.

"You're fucking bleeding, Brad," Ray's voice rose in pitch even as Nate saw Doc take knee and start to pull Brad's hands away from his face.

Gunny fell into step beside Nate as they both approached the hut, along with most of the company.

"It's not a big fucking deal," Brad was obviously agitated. "Just clean me up and stick a Band-Aid on it."

"Shut up and let me do my job, Colbert," Doc snapped as he swabbed at the puffy laceration on Brad's forehead, near his hairline. "This is bum-fuck Iraq and all sorts of infections are possible."

"Fine," Brad grumbled. "Just make it quick."

"What the fuck happened here?" Nate demanded of Ray. "How was Brad injured?"

"I didn't duck, sir," Brad answered for himself, his blue eyes regarding Nate with extreme annoyance.

"You didn't duck, Sergeant?" Nate asked in confusion. "What the fuck was there to duck from?"

"Sir, the average Iraqi male is five-foot-five inches tall," Brad said around a wince at Doc's not-so-tender ministrations. "I'm nearly a foot taller than that."

"So?" Nate shrugged in his confusion. "What do these vital statistics have to do with how you came to be wounded?"

"Iraqi structures are built to accommodate a population with an upper height register of five-foot-five," Brad elaborated, then pointed toward the doorway at his back. "I was exiting the hut and forgot to duck."

"You shoulda heard it, LT," Ray broke in. "His head made this loud 'thunking' noise and next thing I knew, Brad was on his ass in the dirt."

Nate bit down hard on his cheek to keep from smiling at Ray's diatribe and the mental picture of a too-tall Brad Colbert walking straight into a door jam. Glancing at Gunny, Nate saw him spit into his ever-present chew bottle in order to hide his own smirk.

Sniggering started throughout the Company as they stood around to watch Doc apply butterfly strips to Brad's forehead.

"All right, show's over," Nate said. "Sgt. Colbert is fine and I know we all have work to do. Move along, gents."

The men dispersed, their laughter growing louder as they moved further away from the potential for either Brad's or Nate's wrath.

"You'll be fine, Brad," Doc declared as he closed his pack and stood. "Keep it clean and if it gets red or hot to the touch, come find me."

"Thanks, Doc," Brad replied quietly.

"Also, if you start getting headaches or blurred vision, let me know," Doc nodded toward Nate and followed after the rest of the men.

"Mike, Ray," Nate said, when neither of them seemed ready to clear out. "Give the Sergeant some space."

Mike immediately turned to walk away but Ray had to get in a parting shot, "If you need me Brad, I'll be at the Humvee fitting your goggles with corrective lenses."

"Corporal," Nate snapped, lifting both eyebrows and daring Ray to speak again.

Wisely, Person chose to leave without another word.

Nate crouched down in front of Brad, who now sat resting his head in the palm of one hand. He took a couple of deep breaths, allowing himself to feel the relief that Brad's injury really was very minor. Nate ran his fingers lightly through Brad's hair.

He smiled when Brad finally looked up at him, blue eyes showing most of the damage was to his ego.

"Does this qualify me for a purple heart?" Brad asked, with a smile of his own.

Nate laughed softly, and then they simply sat in silence for several moments, neither looking away.

"When it gets dark, Brad," Nate finally whispered. "Come find me at my victor and I'll kiss it for you. Make it better."


End file.
